One Day
by Delinquency
Summary: ...we'll be old and think of all the stories left untold. Oneshot. EngCan. Bro AmeCan{Writer cant Genre.}


"One day you'll be old too!" Laugh lines crinkle as the man light-heartedly admonishes the two blonds snickering at him.

He had lost his glasses once again.

Once again they were perched on his head.

The two children only laughed harder. One ended up wrinkling his nose at the thought.

"I'm already old, Daddy. Last year, Mrs. Karpusi said we would learn multi..multi…multilections this year " And the man laughs.

"Multiplications, Matthew." He corrects. "And you have a long time before you're _old_."

The boys look at him with wide eyes. Both considering the amount of time before they would be like their father.

"Now. Where is your mother? I need to know where I put my briefcase."

The boys start giggling again, spotting the brown satchel leaning against the wall not far behind their dad. He follows their gaze and frowns a bit when he notices.

"That's enough teasing now boys." A light voice joins in. The two flash identical grins at their mother. "Time to go to school."

Both groan, one adding a pout to his expression. "Can we stay home? _Please._" He begs with childish hope.

Their mother looks unimpressed by the display. "It's your first day of second grade. Aren't you excited?"

"No." They whined in unison.

"Well, sorry, but you're going. I'm sure you'll love it." This is unsatisfactory, but the boys can't argue. It's out of their hands. Something deeply rooted in the psyche pushes them towards parental obedience.

"I can't wait to grow-up. We could stay home all day." He whispers to his twin.

They watch as their parents kiss, separating to go their own ways. Happiness plastered across their features.

"Me either, Al."

* * *

Matthew threw a pillow at the door. "Go away, Alfred. I don't wanna talk about it!" He shouted.

"Dude! Are you seriously crying?" Alfred asked from the other side. Concern weaseled into his mocking tone.

"No!" Matthew sniffed out.

"She's totally not your type! I read in Cosmo that you two were completely-"Alfred jumped as something else hit the door; albeit heavier.

The sound of quick footsteps trailed to the foot of the staircase. "Boys, you alright?"

"Yea Mom! Sorry." Alfred called and waited for her to retreat back to preparing dinner before looking at the door sheepishly despite the fact his brother couldn't see the face he made. "I think you should-"

"No Alfred. I just want to be alone right now." There was little conviction behind the voice.

That phrase was the prompting Alfred needed. He entered the room. The door had never been locked for it would have broken the cardinal rule of the universe.

Alfred must always have a way to Matthew. Always. Permanent borders were not permissible.

And vice-versa.

He quickly shut it behind him and clicked the bolt, creating a space for just them.

Matthew looked up with a look that burned from the intrusion, but it soon fizzed out. With a sigh, he unraveled himself from the blankets and made room for his brother to bounce over to his side. Alfred enveloped the other blond and patting his head as he took steadying breaths. Alfred hummed a bit, trying to make it as deep and vibrating as he could in his fifteen-year-old-pre-pubescent-chest.

It was tuneless at first, but as Matthew calmed down, a kind of beat picked up in his mind. Matthew's head pulled up from his brother's side with a curious look as he tried to place the familiar tune.

"…We started making out and she took my pants off. But then I turned on the TV and that's about the time she walked away from me…" Alfred mumbled, his voice cracking once.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment before they both broke out in a fit of giggles.

"Did Cosmo suggest that too?" Matthew asked as he struggled to breathe.

Alfred shot him a glare. "Hey…" He warned. Matthew just cackled all the harder at his brother's guilty pleasure. "It actually says you are too young to be tied down like this and need a good kick in the rear by your amazing and sexy brother.

Matthew scoffed, rubbing his face into Alfred's shirt, much to the other's vocal displeasure.

"Alfred! Your mother wants you down for dinner." Their dad's voice boomed through the locked door. Matthew sighed as their mother amended that she wanted _both_ her sons and they could practically_ hear_ the flustered look on their father's face as he shouted back apologies.

The excuses followed them downstairs.

"It's okay dad. You're just getting old and …Is that a gray hair?" Alfred smirked as he retreated before he got his hand smacked. Matthew and his mother grinning at the display.

"Be nice, Alfred. Your father isn't _that_ old." Their mother ignored the betrayed look she got for setting down the peas.

Matthew sat in his usual place beside his brother, cheeks flushed, but that could have been attributed to the face splitting grin he wore.

As their parents bowed for the evening prayer, Matthew mouthed a 'thank you' to his brother.

* * *

It was only a year later that Alfred began his first real relationship. She was an immigrant from Mexico. Alfred would always say _she had all the right numbers in all the right places._ Matthew wondered if his brother even knew what he was talking about.

They had their ups and downs.

They had their trial and error.

Then they needed to get to a point where there was _no error_.

Of course, Cosmo only got you so far.

So when the twins_ finally_ got laptops of their own for their birthday, the first order of business was to break the parental controls.

Alfred eyes shifted from the keys to the door continually. Even with the comfort of a locked door, he was waiting for their parents to break it down after their 'parent senses' tingled.

Ignoring the fact that their parents had been asleep for over three hours.

"You doing this or not, Freddy?" Matthew nudged his brother with his toe from the chair beside the bed.

Alfred clicked his tongue in disgust at the nickname, but proceeded to pull up the Incognito window and type in his preferences.

Matthew's head tilted in confusion. "Bro…you have some-"

"Shut up, asshole." Alfred snapped, playful pushing his brother's feet from the bed. Matthew just rolled his eyes and sat straight. "No more talking or I'll kick you out. This is weird enough."

"It's my room." Matthew stated.

He was ignored in favor of the video his brother had pulled up. The volume was low, but it was enough to pick up the light conversation. In Russian. Which neither of them spoke.

Alfred wasted little time in fast forwarding through the _I hear your drain is clogged, ma'am_ speech and got to the good stuff.

Both of them stiffened as the scene played out. Alfred's attention was rapt on the well-endowed woman seducing the big Russian man, quickly getting into the flow of things and practically forgetting his brother was in the room too.

Matt felt a pooling of desire that rapidly turned into a sickening punch to the gut. It had happened before, yet he had always brushed it off. One hand covered his mouth as another slid lower down his abdomen. He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

The longer he watched, the more he thought.

Just a little extra hand pressure added some pain to the pleasure, making it feel all the better.

The way those back muscles flexed just right under the stage lights sent shivers down his spine.

The sound a foreign voice makes when using broken English.

How that pretty blond lady was ruining the show for him.

And Matthew realized…he had some pretty weird kinks too.

* * *

And of course, like any middle school romance of the modern age, it was doomed to fail.

Alfred took the breakup like a champ. His friends teased him about it. They were relentless as all children are, but the blond managed to brush them off with a laugh and grand illusions of _the next one will be better. _

Twins, however, shared the same _womb_ for nine months.

Being in the same room with Alfred gave everything away to his brother.

Thus when they arrived home and Alfred beeline for the couch, Matthew did not stop him.

When the blond demanded food be brought to him while he continued his kill streak, Matthew humored him.

Once the game was paused brave façade faded, Matthew lent his shoulder.

He hummed along to a song that they both recognized, a half sobbed-half giggled shout of _what's my age again_ annoying the fat white cat their mother had gotten a few months ago. They spewed random topics left and right, somehow tying together with the phrase _speaking of which._

And when the time was just right and the feelings were all mixed, Matthew punched his brother's shoulder, telling him his 'man-card' was temporarily suspended.

Alfred takes the hit, but defends his right to keep his manhood.

"At least I got some." Alfred shouted as loud as he could without letting his parents know. "Unlike someone…" He drawled with a pointed look.

Matthew bit his lip and raised his brow.

Alfred interrogated his brother for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Grow up! This is why I didn't tell anyone." Matthew hissed through clenched teeth.

Alfred stood, shaking in a mix of disbelief and hidden betrayal. "But Matthew, this is-" He was cut off when his brother clasp a hand over his mouth, letting a group of students pass by.

"I think I know, Al. Kinda hard to miss!" Matthew sounded a bit more resigned now. He knew his brother might take it hard, but it was their junior year and a full year of confidentiality had finally worn Matthew down.

He might have ignored the rage that was building, but Alfred couldn't miss the hurt that was masked by his brother's tightened jaw.

This wasn't something he wanted to agree on.

Alfred believed it to be a disaster waiting to happen.

However, Matthew was stubborn.

And he couldn't stand another year of _not knowing._

"Do you love him?" Alfred finally asked.

The question was heavy, but Matthew answered without hesitation.

"I don't know." He started, and Alfred attempted to use that as leverage, but Matthew didn't let him." I really don't. I'm seventeen, for fuck sake…but I do know that I'm not giving up until I know for sure."

And Alfred was left without a solid foot to stand on.

* * *

DvD or VhS?]

"Books…"

A grimace.

"Cats or Dogs?"

"Rabbits."

A look of disappointment.

"Justin Beiber or Miley Cyrus?"

"Death by drawn and quarter…"

Alfred reared back and seemed to consider something before nodding solemnly in approval. "Alright, Kirkland. I concede. However…if you make him cry."

"Jones," A posh British voice interrupted. "We've been over this. If I make him cry, you can bet your arse he will tear me a new one before you can get your fat self off the couch."

Alfred looked offended.

The kid with the unfortunate luck of having a last name between _Jo_ and _Ki_ wanted to take a skinny dip in a vat of bleach.

Why on earth Matthew had decided to take their mother's maiden name after the divorce, Alfred would never know.

"Look here limey-"

"Alfred F. Jones." The loudspeaker buzzed. A warning look before he turned and flashed a million dollar smile at the hundreds of flashing lights in the audience.

Arthur smoothed down his robes as Alfred took his diploma, the principle muttering about miracles under his breath.

* * *

Despite their differences, Arthur and Alfred allow Matthew to wrangle them into a plan.

They all managed to get into the same university.

Thus, it was only right that they lived together.

It was a two bedroom personal frat house, much to Alfred's chagrin.

He swallowed that bit like a lump of led. Those puppy-eyes of Matthew's were illegal in five states and considered cruel-and-unusual in a few others.

The first time, Matthew hid his grin in the cup of orange juice as his twin attempted to quell the yawns and dark bags with a pot of coffee.

"Don't you dare laugh, Matt." He growled.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Matthew retorted, snatching a piece of toast from his brother.

Alfred gave him a dirty look before plopping down into the chair he claimed.

After a few minutes of silence, Matt spoke up again. "Sorry." There was real regret in there.

Alfred brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a roll of the eyes.

"No. Really…I am."

"Bro. It's okay."

"But I-"

With an irritated sigh, Alfred blatantly tuned his brother out, waiting for him to realize that it was just getting worse the longer he mentioned it.

"…are you jealous I'm getting some?" Matthew blurted out.

Alfred sputtered into his coffee. "No! I'm just a little surprised you are actually the one _getting_ rather than just …. He defended but trailed off, speaking before thinking.

The boys turned identical shades of red just as Arthur walked in, hair still dripping from his morning shower. Alfred shot him a scathing look before taking his breakfast to his room.

"Did I…miss something, luv?"

* * *

The twins find that college isn't exactly all it's cut out to be and within a year, the two of them are filing for withdrawal. However, scholarships and specified funds don't pay for groceries or keep the lights on. They need to do something and _your total is twelve-ninety-five _was not considered a lasting career.

So Alfred had a plan. And Matthew goes along. Arthur just grips his cup tighter when he hears.

There are still things they want to do though.

It's not fancy.

It's not romantic.

It's not _official_.

It just happened.

Throughout the little soirée, Matthew fidgets with the new weight of silver on his hand. Biting his lip, he scans over the small crowd of close friends.

Someone must have spiked the punch.

The Korean exchange student is groping people again.

A hand lightly grips his shoulder.

"I'm still proud of you." He hears his mother say. A smile graces his face as he leans into the touch.

"Dad didn't come." He states.

The grip tightens for a fleeting moment. "He's just running late."

Matthew just smiles. "As usual." He comments before asking her to dance.

Alfred is the best man to this fake matrimony and is given the daunting task of delivering a heart-wrenching speech at dinner.

He doesn't.

Instead, he brings up the story of when Matthew stole a bottle of Jack from his dad's liquor closet and ended up drinking most of bottle before school to hide the evidence. A few people in the crowd remembered that dodge ball day in P.E.

He continued in with how he could never understand how the school 'punk' could think he was so cool wearing green tweed vests and reciting Shakespeare.

Yet somehow his brother had fell for that chain-smoking, tartan wearing, British dick.

So _cheers_ to them and God rest the soul that tries to tear them apart.

* * *

It takes nearly three years before Alfred and Matthew gather the courage to go through with their plan. Arthur managed to pull a bachelors in Marketing by overloading his schedule and taking intersession classes.

The twins kept up their expenses through part-time jobs and occasional assistance from home.

When Arthur lands a sweet job through a few connections he has in school, he tries to tell the boys that they don't need to worry about it anymore.

Alfred is too hyped-up on service pamphlets and testimonials.

Matthew just _can't _let him go alone.

So before everything is said and done, Matthew and Arthur take one final leap.

The process is rushed. They managed to slip through before the new restrictions were passed.

Matthew said he was just a roommate. It was Arthur's name that was put on the papers. Arthur who got to be official.

Matthew said it was because he would be home more. Arthur knew it was a precaution. He said it would just bring bad luck.

And as they stood in the airport, with their carry-ons slung over their shoulders, Matthew leaned down to kiss the little boy. "Peter. You be good for your dad, you hear?" Matthew chided.

The six year old perked up. "Where are you going…_Papa_?" The word was tested, still foreign on his tongue.

The three adults looked at each other. "Business trip." Alfred chirped before the boy could get suspicious.

It was technically a lie.

"Can I go?" Peter asked.

Matthew grimaced. "Maybe when you're older."

Before the blond could change his mind and sweep his lover and son away and back to their home, an automated voice blared out and announced that their flight was ready for boarding.

Alfred send a hesitant grin to his brother before slinging an arm over his shoulder, pulling him towards the gate.

They wanted to express themselves, physically and vocally, yet propriety and British obstinacy should have been sins.

* * *

It had been nearly a year since he had held the calloused hand of his lover. He still remembered how he would get. The faraway look in Matthew's eyes and the way he jumped at his touch before giving him a forced smile. It was always when they were alone. Matthew refused to let anyone else see him in that state.

Vulnerable.

It was a testament to the trust between the two.

Yet, it had done a number on his heart, and when the blond had left again, Arthur was left to clean up.

He had to wash the sheets that smelt like him. Less he wake up crying every night.

He had to explain to Peter that _ no, Papa can't stay this time either._

The twins had finally called last night via video chat. The two of them seemingly hyped up about something. Alfred became white noise with the amount of bragging and utter nonsense he kept spouting about some country Arthur couldn't pronounce.

Mathew kept silent for the most part, only speaking when Peter walked in to enthusiastically greet his uncle and Papa. Alfred complimented the kid on his growth while Matthew asked if he was still afraid of lima beans.

Up until the twins had to signoff, Arthur had noticed the look in Matthew's eyes as he just stared wordlessly. From the twitch of his lips to the slight crease under his eyes, he could see it.

_He still loves me._

And just like that, any blame he wanted to pin on the blond was buggered.

Arthur had to get out. The house was suffocating him.

Thus he worked. No one questioned the British man's motives.

His resume _had _mentioned that he was a hard worker, organized, and available for long shifts.

"Arthur, amigo…."

The blond's eyes snapped up from the charts he was inspecting. Green eyes met olive.

"Did you hear me?"

Arthur shook his head dumbly as he gave the Spanish man a blank look.

"I asked if you wanted to go get a drink with us?" He repeated.

He probably should have said no. He still have a few more statistics to compare. The babysitter would probably be getting irritated by now. He expected a huge overtime fee already.

And….

So what was a few more hours?

Letting sleep deprivation and loneliness overrule his common sense, he followed along.

Later, he swore to himself he would never drink that much again.

One or two beers away from turning his _no, I can't_ into a _why the hell not_.

* * *

Matthew stretched across his brother's lap. Boots plopping on the poor sod sitting next to him.

"Hey!"

"Shove it, Carlos." Matthew snapped playfully, digging his heel into the Hispanic man's thigh.

Alfred chuckled as he carded his hands through what little hair had begun to regrow from the last time they had been clipped. "Now now, _Mother_. Be nice." He teased, using the squadron's nickname for Matthew.

Matthew was about to retort when a bump caused him to nearly bite his tongue. "Fuck. Can you tell him to drive this thing a bit smoother?" This elicited a few snickers from the other men shoved into the back of the caravan as well as the attention of their sergeant.

"Williams. Can you sit like you have some self-respect?"

"Self-respect, sir?" The twins chirped together innocently, laughing when they realized what they did. There would be no reprimand for this back talk.

They were finally going home.

Six months leave.

It had been far too long since they had a reprieve like this and everyone in back of that truck was ready for home.

"_He's_ going to be so surprised." Alfred whispered for his brother only.

The most sincere grin he'd seen in a while broke out on his twin's face. They had it planned. They had agreed to keep their return under wraps for dramatic effect. More so Alfred's idea, but Matthew didn't mind playing along.

"Oi! What kind of sweet nothings are you whispering there, Jones?" A harsh cackle shouted.

Mathew just folded his arms behind his head and winked.

They heard their sergeant muttering something about babysitting, but even he couldn't deny the excitement brewing around him. Besides, everyone had heard about his old lady finally popping out their own little private and they all knew he was one physics law from giving gravity the bird and flying home himself.

Another joke was about to be tossed out when a high pitched sound tore over the noise of the engine.

In the past five years, that sound had been well ingrained into their brains. It was instinctual now to hit the deck every time.

But there was nowhere to run this time.

Matthew managed to shoot up, his hand tightly fisted in the fabric of Alfred's pants.

The panic didn't even have time to fully set in.

* * *

Arthur didn't know who to expect when he opened the door.

The post.

Jehovah Witnesses.

His neighbors bringing Peter back by the ear.

But never in his worst nightmares would he have expected to see a stiff backed battered ghost who was supposed to be thousands of miles away.

Red rimmed eyes and bruised pallid skin told a story all their own.

However, the actual words cut so much deeper.

The military man spoke as if he were reading a teleprompt, explaining the entire situation as if he were passing on the day's weather.

The lack of emotion is what shocked the British man at first. It was what made him believe that it was nothing more than a morbid joke the boys had decided to play. It was only when Arthur called him on this that his opinion change.

Alfred practically shoved the other man back into the house, following him, slamming the door behind him and using it for support. Alfred's head hung low as Arthur stared at him slack jawed. Without further prompting, Alfred managed to speak through stifled sobs and stuttered breaths.

He spoke of an ambush. The explosion that overturned their transport. There was blood and fire.

But most importantly, there was Matthew. Alfred had managed to locate him through sheer fate as his ears were still ringing and his eyes didn't want to focus. There was the distant echo of gunfire and screams, but he didn't pay any mind.

He had more demanding matters to attend to. Such as keeping Matthew from thrashing so his ribs wouldn't pierce his lungs and keeping pressure on his abdomen to keep his innards _inside_.

And Alfred spared no detail. Arthur would never get the letter that most spouses got, condoling them for their loss. They were not recognized by law. Thus rather than soothing words that were mass produced (which Alfred could not bring himself to say), Arthur got every minute detail leading up to the last moment when Matthew laughed and _Hey Freddy, be a dear and tell Arthur I'll be a bit late. You know how anal he is about that._

Arthur had promptly lost any food he had eaten after that.

Alfred would have too if he hadn't earlier in the day.

As he watched one of the strongest men he knew sob against the bathroom linoleum, Alfred could only stare blankly at the crumpled form without a word of comfort.

* * *

The funeral ended with a proper send-off. Arthur flinched each time the guns fired. He watched with a steeled expression as Matthew's mother was handed a flag with words of solace spoken over it. She too held a look of composure, though she looked a bit haggard around the edges.

Alfred stood beside her at attention, his eyes staring out into space. The entire affair had been closed casket and for good reason.

He had just wished he could have seen him one last time. Something to replace the current image of Matthew that haunted just behind his eyelids.

As the last shot fired, there was a moment of complete silence before a ragged voice piped up.

"Honey. Who died? Poor boy looks so young. I feel sorry for the family." And Alfred couldn't help the tears that built up a pressure behind his eyes.

"Matthew. Remember." He heard his mother's voice crack at the name.

"Who….OH. That lad that used to come learn his multiplications with Alfred?"

No one could bring themselves to lash out at the elderly man as he continued to boast about his son's 'friend'. _Severe cognitive decline_ was on the lips of ever persons who could pronounce it.

* * *

Arthur sat, a goofy smile on his face. "You know I've said it before," His voice cracked. " but Peter's girlfriend is quite the looker. Says he met her in his…Advanced physics class. Ha! That boy thinks I'm daft or something. I know all about those clubs kids go to now-a-days. Ah…no. She's not that bad though. I think he's going to man up soon with as fidgety as the prat has been the past month.

Arthur paused, his fingers playing with a weather silver band that no longer fit snug against his boney fingers.

"Next chance you get, be a lad and tell Alfred to give me a call. I haven't heard from him in an age. Silly boy probably still thinks I'm mad at him for telling our boy about my younger years. Oh! I _should _give him a what for though." The Brit reared his head back and laughed. "Don't be silly. Oh! Your mother called the other day. She said something about your dad and her taking a trip out to Florida. Odd time if you ask me. Reminds me of that time we went for our…fifteenth…or was it sixteenth anniversary? Fifteenth! Of course. Remember that? Alfred never could be left out could he? "

There was a slight knock at the doorframe and Arthur whirled around.

"Oh Peter! Come say hello to your Papa." The man motioned towards a blank computer screen.

The young man bit his lip. "Dad. I'm going to the store. Will you be alright?"

The British man's face contorted into a grimace. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He never received an answer. Peter just gave a weak smile before disappearing. His hand trailing along the wall as he passed stilled images of memories gone by. He stopped in front two display cases. Everything else managed to gather a thin layer of dust, but these two stood out pristine against the wood and glass. Golden plaques differentiated the similar displays. Peter ran his fingers over the engraving that announced a name and date that had changed their family all those years ago.

His eyes darted over to the other, dated an exact year later.

Dad had always said they could never be apart for long.

Arthur always made a note to whisper _it really wasn't your fault, Alfred _when he passed by.

With a sloppy salute, the blond man slipped on his shoes and out of the house.

* * *

Arthur sank down into his chair. Green eyes were shining despite the smile he had plastered on.

He knew the state he was in. The falsities he would weave. He had tried to tell his son that it was the only thing that kept him sane.

Peter thought it was just the opposite.

Closing the laptop reverently, Arthur took a steadying breath as he let his age catch up to him again.

"Think of all the stories that we could have told."

* * *

Based on 'One Day' By Asaf Avidan. Tried writing this way. Dunno if I like it simply because I'm not good at it.

I do love destroying any chance of happiness my favorite characters may have.{spoiler alert}

Anywho. It is what it is...

Have a nice day.


End file.
